


Darkest Hopes

by Sinneli



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinneli/pseuds/Sinneli
Summary: Naegi Makoto has been hired to work in a town that was once a bustling place filled with robust success. Though a hard worker, he finds that the place is haunted with nightmares and horrors lurking in every shadow, and townspeople who resist it are more than what they seem.One of them, a woman with lavender hair, greets him, saying that she is investigating the origin of the curse within the town.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Dear Kyouko.  _

 

_ It’s been years since I laid my eyes upon you. I bet that you grew up to be a remarkable woman. I still have a portrait of you and me, in my studies. Despite much of the wealth that I have accumulated trying to follow my ambition, it still remains to be my most prized possession. And yet here I write to you, dear Kyouko, because the place is becoming unmade.  _

_ What I have uncovered is the truth, things too horrible to be discovered by men. Already there are words of the townsfolk, and people say I have gone mad. Perhaps I did, since a long time ago. Now, I am a desperate man, clinging to what little hope there is of this little town I came to be.  _

_ Kibougamine has always been a town that has been bustling with activity, and from it comes merchants traveling around the world, heroes of untold, doctors of medical miracles. It has come to a halt since I came here, and though I initially blamed myself, I have followed the steps that our predecessors have, and investigated like we always have. Perhaps if I had started, I would not have fallen victim, but it is too late, and I write to you hoping that you will receive this letter hoping that you won’t come looking for me.  _

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ Jin Kirigiri _

_ Overseer of Kibougamine _

  
  


A gloved hand held the parchment tightly, enough to crumple it, and it shook with restrained anger. She had received this letter too late, and she wasn’t sure when this letter had been written. Only that it was found quite recently, just before her arrival, and it was going to be on its way had someone not caught the sight of her. 

The town was dead. The proud town known as Kibougamine had dwindled to a grinding halt as people went about their daily lives. But in her cold gaze, she could see fear in their eyes, and she had already heard rumors. Rumors of shadows living underneath, with fangs and teeth, hungry for mortal flesh. She believed little of monsters, and logic tended to predate most things, but her instincts, as an investigator, told her to differ. There were too many similarities surfacing within the rumors, and already she could envision few of these monsters that people have witnessed… None were pleasing to the eyes. 

She was angry. For three years she had searched for her father alone, having found numerous encounters that was rather unsavory in nature. Yet she had persevered, and found herself at the end of the trail. It was here that she thought she could finally cut the ties with the man who had abandoned his duties for his own selfish ambitions, and through publicity did he gain power when he should have been silent guardian of the laws and justice where flawed judgement arises. 

Instead she finds him gone. He was not dead, for there were no bodies to be found of him. He had not run away, for no one had left the courtyard since the fall of the estate. And as much as people say there were people behind those stone walls, laughter and smell of wine pervading through their perception, no one has yet to return, and hence people claim it was something far more deadly, much like everything else that had begun happening. 

Perhaps it was a curiosity that she went unprepared. Perhaps it was a compulsion, impatience that went on for years that she was at the end of her ropes. She still had that childish component of hers, for she was young and youthful, and while she had experience in success, she had little in failures. 

She did not return the day she entered the iron grates that led into the estate’s courtyard. Nor the next. Nor the day after. 

But she did return, changed forever, with a portion of the truth at a cost of a terrible, terrible price. 

And the wheels began to turn. 


	2. Chapter 2

His name was Makoto Naegi.To say that he had nothing remarkable would be an accurate statement, for he came from a commoner’s lineage and possessed no skill whatsoever. Perhaps the only thing that might be praiseworthy was his undying optimism, for regardless of how harsh the world was to him, he remained in good spirits. He was most certainly not the most ambitious of people, nor would he ever be.   
As time passed without any remorse, he began to ponder if he was destined for this life, and cared little for it. But fortune smirked at him, and he found himself scouted as one of the stagecoach drivers for a small caravan, headed towards a town known as Kibougamine. It had long since been rumored that the town was a home to many artisans, heroes, and merchants, always succeeding simply by being in the town itself. Excited for a new opportunity in his life, of promised success and in a place where many revered, he immediately took the offer and set his course.   
Needless to say, this is not a tale that ended happily, nor was there a happy journey. Ill-fated as the poor boy seemed to be, he found himself driving a stagecoach at the back of a caravan. Nothing much were to be seen in his method of transportation: a few trinkets and baubles to be sold at cheap prices that were supposed to ward off bad luck and nightmares. With those who he wished to share his good spirits with rejected him, along with an insensible excuse that they were busy, and made it their best interest not to interact with him.   
The hours droned on as the sun passed from over the hill across the sky. Blistering heat began to take a toll as the woods began to wither, the verdant trees becoming filled with uncertain gray. Despite being in cheerful spirits, it did not stop him from soon complaining about the sun and its incessant assault on the poor caravan. The wheels turned ever so slowly with its agonizing descent down the hill, but soon he saw from his carriage the tell-tale sign of the town ahead. Surely it must be the place, for the day’s ride was just over and the sun was just starting to set in the horizon. He felt the coldness of the air of the evening, followed by an unpleasant smell of decay from the woods. As fatigue finally sank in, he had almost dozed off his seat, to realize that the sun had gone another angle down. He was nowhere closer to town, and wondered if it appeared further than it appeared. 

It took a moment for the man to register that his horse had run off and his cart was no longer moving. The rope has been cut, and the rest of the caravan in the front was no longer to be seen. He saw, then, ransacking behind him, bandits. Two highwayman carrying guns and one single brute with what seemed to be a metal-embedded club had found their way into the carriage, looting the gear. Despite them being corrupt men filled with greed, they did not needlessly shed blood, and having seen the sleeping driver not even realizing his horse had run off, they had silently snuck past him. Perhaps he might have found a shiv in his back later, having been dealt a grievous blow for mere coins barely worth buying a bite of morsel with. 

He cried out in alarm, which was a mistake, for the bandits have taken note of his state of mind. Men like these had no patience and one of them aimed his flintlock pistol, aimed at firing a decisive blow to his head, and would have ended his life in a thunderous roar of gunfire in these forsaken woods. 

Alas, it never came, for a battlecry rang out as a fierce redheaded man came running from between the blighted trees, and before these men could change their aim at a greater threat, he had struck, colliding with the big brute and knocking them into the carriage.   
“What are you waiting for? Run!” Despite his earlier fervor rivaling his color of his fiery hair, he gestured poor Naegi to run. Surprised and startled as he was, the young squire obeyed and ran, quickly finding himself pursued by the same man. A gunshot ran out, and a bullet whizzed past them both as they ran through the path. As dirt path became lined with cobblestone, only then could they both heave deep breaths of sweet relief.   
He was finally there, in his place of dreams, his ambitions to be fulfilled by simply being there.   
Kibougamine, the Hope’s Peak.


End file.
